Levels Of Perfect
by prince.of.fifty.stars
Summary: Arthur is an 'Editorial' in modeling, working on a report about what PERFECT truly means. He meets Alfred Jones, a 'Fit' model who takes an interest in everything "available." Human AU/Rated T for a great reason.
1. Chapter 1

Level One: Solving Troublesome

* * *

" _Many say that if one is look into a mirror, it will reflect your true self._

 _But what if they looked into a mirror and found an exactly different person? Then the person hadn't truly been who they were always meant to be._

 _Unless... they were the reflection themselves_ "

* * *

"Mr. Kirkland. May I ask you a simple question?"

"Y-Yes, of coarse, sir."

Mr. Bonnefoy rubbed his temples as Arthur twiddled his thumbs, gulping nervously. "Are you sick?" The Frenchman asked, bluntly, looking Arthur straight into his emerald eyes. "What do you mean, sir? Of coarse I am not, I am here at work, aren't I?" Arthur replied, slightly confused but continued to act as polite as possible. He looked up to his boss, wondering what exactly he was thinking.

"Well then, mon ami... Tu m'énerves!" Mr. Bonnefoy stated in an angered tone as he slammed Arthur's report onto his polished, wooden desk. "I do not understand... Francis." Arthur wondered as he looked up to his boss with conserved eyes. Not from the language, for Arthur understood French perfectly as he's gotten used to his boss's outrages, good and bad. But confused on what exactly Francis was getting so angered about.

"Arthur," Francis paused as he rubbed his chin, cooling down a bit, "This is... C'est des conneries. This is not what I wanted! You said yourself that you would make a better, fresh report. This is inspiring; exactly what we do not want, oui? And what is this about mirrors, timeless love and rubbish that do not, in any way, relate to the topic, Mr. Kirkland?"

"I have been having unusual inspiration lately, sir. Unusual dreams, I should say. It really is a bother to myself as well. Please, let me try again." Arthur asked, not looking Francis in the eye. Francis stared at Arthur and sighed. "Non," Francis decided, "you have already tried quatre fois, Arthur. This is getting annoying." Arthur widened his eyes, slightly terrified.

" _I completely despise this job, but, I swear on my life and beg of you, don't fire me._ " Arthur pleaded in his mind, almost praying. "Non," Francis repeated, "I will have you assigned in a lower category, Kirkland. It is too bad; I really thought you could handle a promotion like this. I was disappointed. Do not do it again." He looked Arthur sternly handing across his desk, a blue, paper folder. Arthur sighed quietly, taking the booklet. "Of coarse. Say, how is Joan?"

The air froze and instantly melted into spring bloom as Francis smiled happily and rambled on and on of their great adventures together and going off into the sunset after every day. Arthur sighed, relieved and quietly inched out of the large, white office room, back to his desk to read the assignment. The British man heard a near door creek open and a familiar Italian face greeted him, expressionless.

"Ciao. How was the fresh story?"

"Marvelous."

"The French beast?"

"Absolutely wonderful."

"Your day?"

"Grand," Arthur continued bluntly sitting down on his cushioned seat, not bothering to look up from his papers. "Hm. incazzato, bastardo?" the Italian trying not to feel faltered by how pissed he himself was at how the Brit was acting. "Why, no." Arthur triggered back, still emotionless.

"Arthur, are you lying to me?"

"Not at all, you bloody git. Not at all." Arthur slammed the document papers onto his desk; his new project, containing obvious demotion and disappointment in his aura. "Ahem. I apologize. I meant to say that it is a pleasure working with you, my new damned partner." Arthur shook the amused Lovino's hand with decreasing spirit by every dragging second of the ticking clock. "Took you long enough. You know I never come to your office unless it's something important as bugging my new partner in crime, sì?" Lovino smirked releasing his hand and sitting on top of Arthur's desk, crumpling papers under his bottom. Arthur placed his elbows up and propped his chin on his intertwined fingers. "So, tell me, where is this uncovering going to be, mind that I don't care, just asking to pass slow time."

"My home country, amico mio."

"Italy?" Lovino nodded. "Where?"

"Didn't bother to read the papers?" Lovino asked annoyed and nearly unimpressed.

"After reading the first two wretched paragraphs, I would've rather died, or worse, quit this horrid job than reading on. So, where?" Arthur continued to ask, the conversation already boring him to near death. "Rome," Lovino stated, looking somewhat happy, probably of the fact he was going back home to his beloved brother, not daring to show it though.

Arthur raised his impressive brows. "Happy to be coming back to Feliciano, perhaps?"

"stai zitto, idiota."

* * *

"Bloody fuck!" Arthur cursed aloud, the large crowd giving him horrifying and disappointed looks, a mother even covering her child's ears. Arthur cleared his throat and apologized behalf of himself and his continuously swearing partner beside him. "Will you shut it, Lovino? I know this is a terrible turn in events but, just please bear with it until we find an alternative path." Arthur clenched a fist around his luggage, looking around desperately.

"Are you serious? We are already a day late!" Lovino shouted at the Englishman hurrying in front of him. Arthur stopped. "Well, I guess we'll have to take a little longer."

"What?" Lovino asked, confused and horrified, sweat running down his cheek. Arthur hurried to a counter and asked the man behind it, "Sir! What is the nearest deporting ship you have going to Italy?" The man turned around with a raised brow and replied, "Discúlpeme?"

"What?" Arthur asked again, his anger and annoyed emotions making him seem more rude than he meant. Lovino slapped a fist against Arthur's forehead, making the Brit stumble back. Lovino started talking in a foreign language with ease and it looked like it ended with ease and, to be honest, that's a hard thing to achieve with a madman like Lovino.

In the end, Lovino got two seperate rooms to a cruise leaving in two days. Arthur sighed and decided to leave the airport with Lovino, and find a small hotel to sleep for the nights until the cruise.

Then finally, as time ran slowly, it was cruise day. The docks were scattered with tourists and Spanish people roaming everywhere. Even the greeting captain of the ship winked at Arthur. As the two argued about which one the captain actually winked at, they unpacked their bags and slammed the doors at each other.

Arthur found the lounge at the cruise ship map and slipped on a simple white blouse and black shorts that hit his knees perfectly. His hair wasn't brushed and his eyes looked weary but his eyelashes made him look lustful. He grabbed a classic novel from his luggage and tucked it between his left arm. Even walking down every narrow hallway, both men and women would wink and give very wicked smiles. Arthur smiled back normally but rolled his eyes as he passed on because he REALLY didn't want this right now. Then as he entered the lounge he palmed his face, messing his hair up more, because Lovino won that fight... the captain was most definitely looking at Arthur. Proof: those blasted passengers making moves on him.

He flipped the 149th page when a finger tapped the top of his book and Arthur looked up to a man that ought to be younger than him. Though, he wasn't Spanish.

It was a man at least three inches taller than Arthur but then again, every other man was taller him. He had black lines and curves that went crawling up around his left arm and a Roman numeral of a fifty in dark red, embedded into his wrist. He wore a sleeveless jean jacket that covered a grayish white t-shirt underneath. His hair looked like it was gelled back but stubborn strands stayed put, hanging over his forehead. He was definitely a looker; just not his type.

Arthur tried raising my book but the strength of his one finger was stunningly strong so Arthur had to duck his head to continue reading. Arthur heard a quiet laugh from behind his book and he dared take a glance upward.

"You're a brave one, aren't ya?"

Arthur squinted his eyes slightly. "I've heard more flattery things."

"I've also heard more sexier accents, ya dig? But, your looks are worth something."

He had a wild accent of the 60s that the Americans had and that statement most definitely got Arthur's attention. He had a wide smile and a small but deep scar, printed right on his jawline. Arthur finally took a good look at the younger male's face and he couldn't help but feel slightly taken aback; the boy's lips were soft, slightly crooked but made for a friendly smile. His nose was turned slightly upward, despite being quite bony. His eyebrows were filled, a slightly darker shade than his sunset, greased hair. His eyes were the color of the sea they were traveling on. Though they were dark and glazed over pretty well, they held something subtle: hurt... maybe protectiveness.

Arthur leaned more against the chair finally caring for eye-contact. "And what is it that a you want?"

He gave a sideways smile that showed a shallow dimple form on his right side. "I'm Alfred. Thanks for asking."

Arthur almost smiled at that. He was clever and smart... just not style-wise. "I'm Arthur but, you must've known that."

Arthur hoped for more than a smile but that was all he received as the other man sat on a cushion across from him. There was a silence but it wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable. It was relaxing and pleasing. Which is the last thing he'd expect from an American greaser. Alfred gave Arthur a wolfish smile that was sweet and dangerous and Arthur just about blushed.

Arthur felt 10 years younger and like a teenager who's just found out about a handsome new fellow in school. Instead he cleared his throat. "So Alfred... what room are you staying in?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Welcome to "Levels of Perfect"

There's a lot of French and Italian stuff so, I apologise if it's not accurate or just messes things up. Well, as you should know, this will be written from the 60s (If no one noticed "greasers" / Yay! Black and white stuffs!) If anyone really wants to know now, Arthur's report is about what "PERFECT" truly means and Alfred gets to be his inspiration.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter will really show the means of a _rating of T. Reader's discretion, advised._**

* * *

Level Two: Admitting Weakness

"You're a model!?"

Alfred looked up at him, slipping his jeans on in one slick move. "Yeah. A Fit Model."

"A FIT MODEL!?"

Alfred pressed a fist up to his mouth, trying his best to not laugh at the bewildered British man sitting naked on his bed. "Yeah? Why's it so surprising?"

Arthur gaped his mouth. He feels like a fool, he looks like a fool; why hadn't he noticed it? That lean waste, toned muscles, the sexiest shoulder blades, and that bloody sexy six pack he's walking around, half naked on. His jawline as sharp as a lion's bite. His eyelashes longer than light years, perfectly high cheekbones, and shady, exotic eyes. And everything about him was symmetrical, which was very hard to come by.

Arthur was astonished. But he could barely believe it. And he just woke up in white sheets of a canopy bed that had a bloody Jacuzzi in the corner and the best one night stand he'll ever get in his entire life.

"I can't believe it…"

"You better dig! Or else I'm throwing you out if you're not really who I think you are."

"Who do you think I am?"

"The new model from _Elle_ , right? You were picked from the streets of Paris and tried out at a photo shoot. Which became a huge success 'cause the other big hit companies got their asses kicked when _Elle_ published their new magazine."

"...And how do you know this?"

"Ha ha. Ditz, I'm a model from _Vogue."_

Arthur's mouth managed to widen. " _Vogue_?"

Alfred smiled, showing his shining, white pearls. "Yeah."

" _VOGUE_!?"

"Yes! Believe it! Oh, and just because I'm usually seen with a lot ta heaters in my modeling, it don't mean I've actually busted someone."

Arthur looked at the wooden floors of the moving cruise ship. He was getting seasick and, for goodness sake, Arthur loves sea travel! "I can't. This is crazy! I can't believe this from a kid like you! For all I know, you might as well be lying to impress your stupid arse!"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, honey. For all you know, this 'stupid arse' is pretty damn big." And he went all the way to actually grabbing his butt and winking at Arthur. Arthur shook his head and scoffed. "Fine, Mr. Jones. Mind me asking a few questions then?"

"Shoot!" And he lay beside him on the bed with his slender, shaved legs crossed and his grin filled with excitement to brag.

"Alright, how tall are you?"

"Six feet and an inch."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"How much do you weigh?"

Alfred grinned. "Since I lost two pounds last night... 160 pounds."

Arthur squinted his emerald eyes straight into Alfred. Then the Brit smirked. "Clothing measurements?"

Alfred smirked back. "Waist, thirty inches, Shirt size: neck fifteen, sleeve thirty two. Jacket size for forty one." And Arthur's mouth couldn't widen anymore so his eyes grew instead. "Bloody..."

"Now, Artie, tell me if any average liar would know those things."

Arthur looked down on his hands and he felt ashamed. "Sorry, Mr. Jones. I didn't mean to take you for a liar. I'm just surprised a fellow model would be sleeping with an amateur like me."

Arthur heard him sigh and he looked up to see Alfred weaving his fingers through his golden hair. "Don't forget this, Artie; Even I used to be an amateur."

Then he took his muscled arms and crouched closer to Arthur. "And it's Alfred." Then their lips met; in and out, soft and sweet. Arthur even felt Alfred's eyelashes, caressing his cheeks. And when Arthur noticed that they had parted, Alfred was already outside of his walk-in closet and slipping a black leather jacket over his white button-up shirt. Then when he noticed Arthur, he smiled.

"Stop staring at me and get dressed... Or else my control will snap and I'll be fucking you again."

Arthur blushed and looked away. "You know? I wouldn't mind that."

Alfred laughed, his nose creases scrunching perfectly. "Maybe next time," Then he threw a baby blue long sleeve, button-up to Arthur and a pair of black Armani pants, "Get dressed first."

* * *

"Aw, man! I'm starvin'!"

"I, as well."

Arthur traced the edges of the stainless steel buffet and carefully read each delicacy. Behind him, Alfred had already gotten a plate and was already filling it.

"Alfred!"

"Hm?" He answered, a calamari ring suck between his lips.

"You didn't even ask the chef what the calories and the cooking methods were for those!"

"Don't have to. I'm eating all of this!" Alfred practically said, his mouth almost drooling at the half a mile long buffet of gourmet food.

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "You don't just do that! For a Fit model, I thought you'd know every basic need of dieting!"

"...Mmm. Yeah. No." Alfred made his point of shutting Arthur up by going ahead of him in another one of his smooth, single motions. Arthur smelled his seductive cologne as he passed which Arthur had to bite his lip at. He turns back to the four star menu in front of him, grabbed a stylish plate, and asked the chef what his cooking methods were.

Just as he'd filled his plate with salad -no sauce or extra additives- he felt a nudge to his right, where the beginning of the line came from. It was Lovino.

He didn't say anything; he was just doing his eyebrow thing that no one he really knows, means. Except Arthur.

"He's no one. Now shut up and move along," Arthur whispered through beared teeth. Lovino made a minuscule gesture of actually approaching Alfred and Arthur sliced his finger passed his neck, solely headed to the Italian male. Lovino shrugged, grabbed a plate of his own and scurried back to where the chef was to ask his normal series of questions as a fellow model. That Arthur needs to seriously keep an eye on.

"Who was that?"

Arthur jumped out of his skin and somehow flung his plate (filled with only salad and morning sausages) into the nearby gourmet meatloaf. "You bloody git! Now look at what you've done!"

"Oops." Alfred slid behind Arthur twisted his arm around to grab a slice of the meatloaf, and just before leaving, seductively licking Arthur behind his ear. He doesn't quite know how long but Arthur did just stand there, barely breathing.

Once he recovered his plate and apologized for the mess Alfred left behind, he made his way to the dining area. Since this was the Business class, there were barely any other people and Arthur didn't even notice Lovino anywhere. Alfred, of coarse, chose a table near two young ladies with way too much jewelry on. As Arthur calmly approached, Alfred saluted at him and patted the seat to his left. Arthur nodded at the ladies to be polite, sat, and observed.

One woman was a bleached blonde lass, like Arthur. She had a sculpted face and simple, nude make-up on and wore a yellow striped summer dress that ended just to her knees. She had a sweet laugh and a radiant smile. The other woman was a brunette in a loose bun. She had ruby lips and her eyes were bombarded with mascara. She wore sailor shorts and a white long sleeve with a red ribbon. Arthur glanced at Alfred and found he was hitting on the dark-haired girl much more than the young blonde. Arthur breathed in, involuntarily smelling the brunette's cheap perfume.

Arthur shook and looked away (totally not jealous) as Alfred's hand caressed the woman's thigh under the table cloth. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Alfred, do you mind introducing me?" And Arthur pretended to not notice his sigh of relief when Alfred's hand retreated.

Alfred took a second to glare at Arthur which the Brit dismissed as a trick of the light but Alfred smiled and looked at the ladies. "Girls, ladies, this is Arthur. My partner in crime." He gestured to Arthur then gestured to the ladies, "Artie, this is Tura," he gestured at the brunette, "and this is Edie," he pointed to the bleached blonde lass.

By the time breakfast finished, it was basically midday. Arthur quickly dabbed the napkin on his face, got up, nodded at the ladies, and left.

He entered his own room and closed the door behind him. He unbuttoned his shirt and remembered it was Alfred's so he opened the door again and headed a few halls down. People (ladies) were eyeing him. Each and every one. Arthur knew he didn' have a shirt on but he was too sleepy to even care. As he entered Aflred's hall, he could already tell someone was getting knocked up; sounds and all. So, he didn't waste a second to knock on that door as loud and as irrational as he can.

The 'sounds' stopped and the door opened with a clumsy clatter. "Ey, nosebleed! Get some jets and cut out!" Alfred yelled at Arthur, his eyes only half closed, shirtless, and the fly of his jeans opened.

"It's me, you arse," Arthur stated, annoyed, tired, and trying his best to keep his eyes at Alfred's face.

Alfred blinked a few times then opened one eye fully. "Oh, it's you, Artie. What do ya want?... 'N why are ya half naked?" Behind him, Arthur could see dark hair splayed over his sheets even if the room's lights were turned off.

"This is yours," Arthur held up the blue shirt and looked away. Alfred took a moment to stare at it but he shook his head, "No, Artie. That's yours now. I don't like that shirt anyway."

"But, it's Klein-"

"I know. Just leave, Arthur!"

Arthur paused for a second hoping the hurt he was feeling wouldn't transform itself into watering eyes. Alfred opened both his eyelids and sighed. He grabbed Arthur by the loop of his pants and pulls him into a deep, drunk kiss. With unimaginable loads of tongue action which left Arthur breathless.

Before he even figured it was done, Alfred had slipped back into the room and closed the door at his face.

Arthur turned around, still erratically breathing and pressed his forehead against the nearby wall. "What... the bloody hell..."

"What's wrong, Arthur? Alfred getting you down?"

Arthur slowly turned his head to face a woman with a cup of scotch in her palm and a gloomy face. "Aha. Rejection hurts, doesn't it? Don't let it get to you."

Arthur didn't answer but he did notice the small trickles of mascara running down Edie's face. She smiled at him, he smiled back, trudging down the end of the hall to sit beside her. "What do you see in him, Edie? You're a beautiful, strong woman. Why Alfred?"

Edie chuckled and grinned. "The same reason you want him."

"Oh? What's that?"

"He's perfect." Arthur widened his greens and almost gasped. It was one of those "Oh my god, you're right!" moments, one of those mind-blowing moments. Edie was right. He was perfect. "Why do you need someone perfect in your life, Arthur?"

"It's... quite complicated."

"Then simplify it. But, do tell."

Arthur smiled at that. She was just as cocky and cheeky as Alfred was. "Well... he's the only one so far, that can save my career right now. I need him."

"Oh?"

"Yes... just because he is absolutely perfect."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Here's some greaser language to get straight:

 _Dig-Understand_

 _Ditz-Idiot_

 _Heaters-Guns_

 _Busted-Hurt/Injured_

* * *

Alright. Chapter Two!

Alright. Thanks for putting up with the wait, guys, (you have no choice mwahahaha)Anyways, i bid you happy reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Level Three: The Dreaded Corner

"Do you like the dinners here?"

"No. I'm disappointed. This ship is Italian based, and no Italian food to be found?" Lovino shakes his head, his wet hair from a warm shower, shimmering in the dim light of the room.

"Hm... You're right! Most of the food here is French cuisine now that I think about it. God in glory! This is outrageously disappointing!"

"You sound like old geezers." Arthur's fork clatters to the floor as he abruptly turns to meet eyes with blues that he never thought he'd see again since the night with Miss Edie who had left heartbroken and a drunkard-addict-bomb ready to explode. "Nice going, Artie. Pretty dramatic."

"How the bloody hell did you get in here?"

"The door was wide open." Arthur shakes his head, not believing but Alfred makes a point by stepping aside and actually letting Arthur see just how irresponsible he was; leaving the room keys in the lock.

"W-w-ww-w-," Arthur clears his throat before he can choke on that medium rare lamb, "What in god's name are you doing he- No, scratch that. Wh-What do you mean dramatic? You were the one who slammed me against a wall, kissed me til my soul was impure, and slammed the door in my face without a single goodbye!"

"So you do hold a grudge." Alfred sighs glances behind Arthur, to Arthur then back past Arthur, "Well, you were the one that avoided me for three whole days and was probably planning to leave without your own goodbye."

"What makes you say that?" Alfred nods to where he'd been looking: Lovino and Arthur's bags, nearly packed and piled beside the leather sofas. "So? I guess we're even in that way."

There's a silence then and he can hear Lovino's cutlery still quietly clattering against his plate. "Um, will you leave for a moment, Lovino?" Arthur whispers to the Italian not knowing whether he would rather slap Lovino or Alfred more.

As Lovino leaves, stifling a laugh, Arthur turns back to Alfred who had taken the chance to move an entire meter closer. "Artie-"

"Don't call me that. Anyhow, you're here to have the last word before we part, right? Well, hurry on." Arthur grabs the two halfway finished plates and drops them into the silver sink with nor care.

"But I-"

"No, I am right. Go ahead though. Please, I actually insist. You know, to take over the situation with extreme lack of sensitivity once again."

"That's not-"

"Yes, just to keep it consistent. Wouldn't want that popular reputation of yours -of leaving the longest line of broken hearts- to be shaken, am I right?"

"Arth-"

"Did you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, I was hurt? That I was jealous? That I actually did not sleep the last few days because miss actress won over Alfred's appeal? Alfred's eyes? Alfred's attention?"

"I-"

"Isn't that just insane? A model who wants more attention when he's already surrounded by flashes and mobs every waking morning. How absolutely ridiculous. This is all your fault Al! You son of a bitch, arse, bloody bastard, sic-"

"WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP FOR A SECOND?" Alfred suddenly yelled. Arthur was in the verge of crying but Alfred had come behind him and covered his quivering mouth with his warm palm. "Just shut up, Arthur."

"You bugger," Arthur mumbled through his grasp.

"Yeah. Call me what you want. I didn't want it to end this bad but apparently I've gotta say sorry now."

Arthur stays still, feeling that if he moves a centimeter, he'll tear up.

"Haha. So, you finally hang loose. I've gone all the way with you, Arthur, so don't call me a flake, alright?"

Arthur still stays frozen, mainly because he didn't understand what the bloody hell he just said.

"Uh, but I'm kinda glad ya laid it on me like that. I never wanted to hurt you, truly." Alfred leans into Arthur, smelling his washed hair and relaxing for a moment then smiling, "Haha. And I just wanted to say bye."

The American kisses his head lovingly then leaves, Arthur surprised at himself for watching him until he turned the dreaded corner.

"Oh my god." Arthur jumps at Lovino's voice.

"W-What is it?" Arthur asks wiping his face.

"That..." Arthur looks at him questioningly and finds Lovino in amazement. "That was perfect!"

...

And it was. It really was.

* * *

 **This is short. Short says hi. This is short when the story ends, bye.**

 **Thanks for reading _"Levels of Perfect"_ and I hope you enjoyed it. No matter how hatefully short this is,  
**

 **I bid you happy reading. (this was horribly short, wasn't it?)  
**

 _ **The End**_


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